


Bangs?

by lovingremus



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Drinking, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, One Shot, POV Simon Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:22:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21885919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovingremus/pseuds/lovingremus
Summary: Baz is drunk and Simon is his impulse control.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 4
Kudos: 77





	Bangs?

**Author's Note:**

> My very first Snowbaz fic! It's super quickly written so give me mercy.  
> Also, the title sucks. I really didn't know how to name this.
> 
> Set between Carry On and Wayward Son. So no WS spoilers :)

**SIMON**

“What do you think, would I rock bangs?”

“ _What_?”

I tear my eyes from the television and look at Baz. He’s standing in front of a mirror, wearing red pajama bottoms and my T-shirt. I _love_ it when he dresses so casually, even though it's 11 o'clock on a Friday night, and it would be weird if he'd still have one of his collar shirts on.

Penny isn’t home tonight and Baz and I decided to take the night for ourselves. That doesn’t happen very often anymore. It feels unreal that I shared a room with him for over seven years.

Baz’s holding his hand near his face - he has something in his hand - and looks himself in the mirror. His face is slightly flushed, and I can’t tell if it’s because of the blood or alcohol. Both been consumed by him over the past hour.

“Would I rock bangs?” He repeats. I smirk at him.

“Don’t you like, have bangs already?” His hair definitely is a bit shorter from the front, framing his face perfectly, the rest of his hair being neck-length.

He grunts like I'm being slow. He does that a lot.

“I mean, actual bangs. Like Taylor Swift bangs.”

I stare. “On a scale from 1 to 10, how _bloody_ drunk are you?”

“Just answer the question, Simon.”

He calls me Simon quite often nowadays. It makes my heart melt every time.

“I think you’d rock any look,” I say smiling, pushing myself up from the sofa and walking up to him. I look at the thing in his hand and suppress a chuckle as I realize they’re scissors. He’s being _serious_ about this. It’s almost hilarious. “But I’m pretty sure that’d be a decision you’d regret in the morning.”

“How about an undercut?”

I can't hold my laugh anymore. He’s out of his mind. What is he going to suggest next? A mohawk? Why would he even want to do anything with his hair? I’m pretty sure it’s one of his favorite things about himself. It's definitely one of _my_ favorite things about him. He used to spend ages in front of the mirror every morning at Watford just to make sure his hair’s on _fleek._

“Honestly?” I say, gently taking the scissors from his hand and placing them on the table beside us. Baz would literally kill me if I let him to drunk cut his hair. “That’d be _hot_. But how about you considered this, let’s say, overnight?”

He turns away from the mirror and faces me, our eyes locking. He suddenly looks a bit sad.

“I just… wanted to change... something. About myself.”

I frown. I know he’s insecure about some things about himself, although thinks that he hides it well. But those insecurities don't really have anything to do with his appearance, as far as I know. He despises being a vampire, that’s obvious. He's the biggest softie in the world, which he considers a weakness and always tries to act tough. I’ve got a lot of experience with that part. But I’ve never seen him think this way about his looks. It worries me, even though he's hammered while saying that.

“Where’s this coming from, Baz?”

He avoids the question and locks his eyes on my curls. “Your hair is so nice," he slurs.

“Well, so is yours.”

“I just want mine to be more like yours.”

“You realize that I don’t have Taylor Swift bangs, right?”

He snickers. It's adorable. I love him so much. I’ve yet to say it out loud. And now, with Baz being absolutely wasted, does not seem like a good time. But I kiss him. Then I tug my fingers in his hair. I move my lips near his ear and whisper.

“You look perfect, Baz. You don’t need to change anything about yourself.”

I’ll make sure he’ll never forget that again.


End file.
